


Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy

by AlienAres



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I cannot write romance so im not going to, I did no research, Ignoring Ant-man, Ignoring Dr. Strange, Inconsistent chapter lengths, My First AO3 Post, Unnecessary subplot about interns, everyone still lives in the tower, for the plot, hermione is changing the world one robot at a time, ignoring timelines for the Plot, inconsistent updates, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2020-07-20 13:50:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19993270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlienAres/pseuds/AlienAres
Summary: Tony Stark's intern has a friend who needs a place to stay, and Tony, in his infinite generosity, offers a room at the Tower.  Unfortunately, the Sokovia Accords are just about to be signed, and Hermione and Harry find themselves involved in the Avenger's Civil War.





	1. 5 of Wands

One of the interns was at the kitchen table, shoulders shaking, and Tony did not know what to do.

She was one of the new ones, on recommendation from a friend of a friend. Her-mee-onee or something like that. (Tony could never remember her first name). She was good, but a little on the green side. Her work in theoretical physics was astounding, but give her a calculator to put together and she was helpless. Hence the internship. If Tony didn’t know any better, he’d swear she’d never seen a computer before.

But here she was, crying silently at the kitchen table at 3 in the morning, her bushy hair hiding her face and parts of a letter.

“Hey, Granger,” he said, not too loud and pleasant. His specialty.

Her shoulders gave one last shiver and she wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Stark, I didn’t think anyone would be awake.”

“Tony, remember? No formalities when we’re all living together.” He finally stepped into the room and started putting together the coffee pot. It was a bit early, but he wasn’t going to get anymore sleep anyway. His intern sniffled a bit in the silence.

“What’s got you up, anyway? Nature of the universe?” Usually, he’d be more upbeat. Distracting. But sincerity seemed to be the only thing for a mostly empty kitchen at 3 am. He flicked the coffee maker on and turned to face her.

“I… well…” She bit her lip, rolling it over her teeth as she thought. Staring directly at him with her swollen, red eyes, though, like she could pick him apart through sight alone. She came to a decision. “You remember those terror attacks that were all over Britain a year ago?”

Ah, those. Those were the reason Granger had been eligible for this particular internship to begin with. Tony nodded.

“Well, a friend of mine was caught up in them too. With me. And he’s…” Her eyes welled up and she looked back down at the letter in her hand. Parchment, Tony noted, and a wax seal like some sort of medieval scribe. “He’s not doing well. Adjusting.” Tony didn’t point out that Granger, too, was having trouble adjusting.

“He’s really bad. He’s not… He won’t…” She looked at him suddenly, eyes fierce and determined, and Tony would have stepped back if the kitchen counter wasn’t already digging into the small of his back. Damn, kid.

“He needs to get out. He needs new scenery, less press. And I know I could help him! But I’m here, and I can’t just…”

“You can’t leave,” Tony said, a little desperately. She narrowed her eyes, but Tony didn’t take it back. This program was good for her, it was good for all the kids he had accepted, and, judging by what he knew of her, it might be the only sort of help she would accept. He couldn’t, in good conscience, not help a kid like her.

“I can’t just _bring him here_ ,” she corrected.

The words went off like a bell in Tony’s head, and he smiled. “Why not?”

She scoffed, and it looked so natural he almost laughed. “And what, just bring him into to tower? Let him sleep under my bed?”

“I mean, you could do that, or we could just set him up in his own room.”

She placed her hands on the table as if the steady herself. “You don’t mean…”

“Why not? There’s plenty of space. We could even set him up with a few projects, get some real world work experience and everything.”

“Mr. Stark,” she said faintly, a small, hopeful smile growing on her face. “If you think I’m bad with technology, just wait until you meet him. He’s been known to blow up cell phones.”

Tony snorted a laugh. “Tony. And remind me never to ask you for a recommendation. I’m sure he can sort paperwork or something. Why don’t you write him back and see if he’s interested? I’ll get everything sorted by morning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.” Her eyes were watery again, but Tony didn’t feel bad this time. He turned away to pour himself some coffee. “This really means a lot. I don’t have many friends and we’ve known each other since we were eleven so… Thanks.”

Tony snorted again. “Call me Tony. What’s this kid’s name anyway?”

He turned around just in time to see the beaming smile on her face. “Harry Potter.”


	2. We Stand on Ledges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next logical step for Tony Stark.

At least now Tony had a project to work on instead of going over the same bullshit blueprints and redoing his work over and over. Setting up a room was no problem at all. Took ten minutes, max, plus another three to carefully word a memo to Pepper and Price, the Intern Coordinator. He’d be set up on the floor above the interns, near the elevators. Unless Sanji was up to moving so the new kid could be near Granger… 

He put a pin in that thought and moved on.

The real project was tracking this Harry Potter’s information and digital footprint. He was nothing if not thorough, and though he’d agreed to let a strange kid into his tower, he’d make sure he knew everything about him first.

He did a background check on all his interns, anyway. Personally.

It really wasn’t hard to find birth records and early school records. His parents died when he was very young, and he lived with Petunia and Vernon Dursley until two years ago. Odd, Tony could understand. Family can be trying in the best of times. What was strange, though, is when he sort of disappeared.

At eleven years old, Harry Potter was withdrawn from his public school and sent to a private school. Then there were very few mentions. A few articles in the local papers, and then a bunch more after the terror attacks that praised him, Granger, and a few others and then… nothing. Even in his less-than-legal avenues, he couldn’t really find him.

It was 9 AM by the time he decided to reach out, and by then he was invested.

A few calls and he was redirected to the friend of the friend who had recommended Granger in the first place, a woman by the name of Donna Noble.

It rang three times by the time she picked up.

“Hey, Donna, it’s Tony Stark. Wondering what you know about Harry Potter.”

To her credit, she only paused for a second to absorb the information. “Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Stark. Harry Potter was one of the people vital in taking down the Dark- um, the terrorist organization a year ago.”

“Right, got that, but I’m having a lot of trouble finding actual information about him.” He paused, and she didn’t offer any more information. “I’m thinking of offering him an internship.”

He heard the distinct sound of Donna spitting out her coffee. “Intern— Has he _applied_?”

“Not officially yet, but his friend Her-me-onee Granger requested it, so I’m following up.”

“Herm— _Miss Granger_ — I don’t —” There was fumbling with the phone, some huffs, a slam, and when Donna got back on, her voice was echoey and very close. “You want to take Harry Potter as an intern?”

“Yes,” Tony said over a stifled laugh. “They want to keep it on the down-low, you know? Away from the press.” He let that sink in a moment. “But I still need to be thorough, right?”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Her voice was breathy and distracted.

“So, if you could tell me where I could find some of his records…?”

“I’ll send them to you,” she said firmly. Seems she finally got over her fluster. “By, oh dear, by tomorrow morning. Is that soon enough?”

“That would be great. And if you could not tell the press…?”

“Oh, of course, I’ll be very discreet! Only the necessary parties will be made aware.” 

They exchanged information and said their goodbyes, and Tony was left to smile down at his third cup of coffee.

That conversation hadn’t been very enlightening, but it did bring up a lot of questions about Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and even this terrorist organization. He had so much to look into, and so many things to solve. 

If only the rest of the morning could be this pleasant.

But _that_ meeting was in a few hours yet. Before that, he could make sure Friday was fully integrated into the new intern’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha ha ha, this chapter's really short. And much later than I had intended. I promise, they get longer. 
> 
> But oh my god, there's kudos! There's a comment! Thank you so much, especially Rainbowdea! :D


	3. This is for the Rest of Our Lives

Hermione wrung her hands around the strap of her messenger bag, watching the big hands of the clock tick forward so, so slowly. She had tucked herself into a little corner of Grand Central Station, and now just had to wait until Harry was out of Customs. 

She brought notes to look over, but couldn’t concentrate on them for more than a few minutes. What if there was a problem with Customs? What if they wouldn’t let him into the country? What if he was arrested, or stopped by Death Eater sympathizers, or— or—

She shook her head sternly and glared at the second hand of the clock. That was not a productive line of thinking. She could only do what she could, and it was useless to worry about things out of her control.

Like Mr. Stark’s reaction to Harry showing up that very same day.

As soon as he had agreed, she ran back to her room and written a hasty response to Ron. She had never really considered the magical nature of the Owl Post, but then, with an ocean between them, she spent the next few hours pacing her room, waiting for a response. 

Maybe it was because she was finally doing something, the nervous tension in her soul wouldn’t let her relax.

But Pig returned only a few hours later (confirmation that the owls could use some form of magic!) and she agreed to Ron’s half-baked plan to move Harry immediately.

They probably should have waited a little. Maybe a day, or even a few more hours, but she hadn’t seen her friend for months and Mr. Stark said he’d make arrangements by morning, and the longer they waited the more likely there was to be an incident—

“Oh, and look at this!” Mr. Weasley’s voice echoed across the din of the station, cutting through her thoughts. “It’s nothing like King’s Cross!”

Hermione darted into the crowd, weaving around startled travelers until she spotted the red-haired man waving wildly at the train timetables and Harry Potter smiling faintly in response.

“Harry!” She shouted. She ran and threw her arms around him. He braced himself as he caught her, but they still almost went rolling down to the floor. 

“Hermione,” he greeted warmly into her hair, and hugged her back. 

She pulled away far enough that she could get a good look at his face. He was smiling, but the bags under his eyes were dark and bruised. He had lost so much weight, his clothes hung off his frame, and she could swear she felt his ribs underneath. He looked so, so tired. So much more than the last time she saw him. 

“Hermione!” Mr. Weasley shouted, and joined in on the hug with a laugh. “It’s so good to see you! How is New York?”

The white in Mr. Weasley’s hair was slowly taking root, but unlike Harry, he looked much better. Healthier, more weight, smiling enough for the three of them. It was infectious, and she let go of Harry.

“Hello, Mr. Weasley! New York has been wonderful. Thank you so much for bringing Harry.” She glanced at him, seeing if he was miffed that she was talking about him like he wasn’t there, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was glancing around uncomfortably as other travelers passed behind his back.

“It was no problem at all, we had a grand tour of the gift shop. You know they sell all sorts of gadgets there? Harry had to drag me out.”

Hermione laughed at the picture. “Wait until you go to an airport, you’ll love it.”

Mr. Weasley beamed at her, but sobered a little when he glanced at Harry. “I really should be going, though, before I miss the portkey back. Ron sends his love. You’ll be fine, right? And you’ll write often? Molly worries.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure we do. And give Ron a hug for me!”

“Thanks, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said in a soft voice that was almost drowned out by the ambient noise.

They waved the man good bye, Hermione feeling a slight pang of homesickness, before she turned her full attention to Harry.

“Let’s get lunch!” she said with forced cheerfulness. “There’s so much to see in New York, and there’s so many kinds of food!” 

“I’m not really hungry,” he said, and she stared at him until his shoulders fell and he accepted his fate. “Maybe just some tea?” 

Hermione smiled brightly. “That’s a brilliant idea.” She took his hand and lead him out of the Station.

It was a gray sort of day, with heavy clouds rolling low over the city and threatening to burst. It didn’t seem to deter the New Yorkers, though, and they filled the streets with their usual fervor. Hermione kept a tight hold on Harry’s wrist and all but dragged hm in convoluted circles around the slower pedestrians, surprised her was letting her pull him along.

Harry didn’t say anything.

“I found this place about a week after I got here,” she said eventually. “The Tower is wonderful, of course, and I get along with the other interns, but they can be a bit… much. It’s not their fault, of course. Just living in such close quarters can be…” The words dried up in her throat and fell dead between them.   
She glanced at Harry. He hummed in the appropriate places, smiling slightly in that way he used to when they were walking between classes and he wasn’t really listening. Just like old times.

But she didn’t want it to be just like old times. They were different now, everything was, and ignoring it made something like guilt and regret bubble up in the back of her throat. So she fell silent as she led him down the oddly straight streets of New York and through the dark threshold of Tartarus, home of Black Death Coffee.

The name and doorway were a little misleading. It was well lit and housed quite a few leafy plants, with soft piano music playing in the background in psuedo-familiar tunes. Most of the seating was made of cushioned armchairs and mismatched loveseats, arranged around tables that Hermione suspected were secondhand. Overall, it was cozy and welcoming, but relatively private. Comfortable.

The barista took off his headphones just long enough to take their orders. A vanilla-peppermint blend for Hermione and a “just… whatever black” for Harry. He then waved them off and Hermione led Harry to a small table by the window. There was a large fern next to her that tickled her nose. She batted it away.

‘How are you?’ she wanted to ask, but that wasn’t an easy question to start with. ‘How is Ron?’ she wanted to ask, but she knew how Ron was. Ron actually answered his letters. ‘Have you considered getting another owl yet?’ was another, but she already knew the answer to that one, too. 

The barista placed two earthenware mugs on the table and left without a word or a backward glance. The music on his headphones was so loud Hermione could hear it.

“I missed you,” she settled on.

Harry blinked over his mug at her, like he was surprised she would say anything. Or surprised that she would say that. But the corners of his lips turned up.

“I missed you too.”

That was a good opening. She smiled back and breathed in the mist from her tea. Not her usual London Fog, but pleasant enough. She waited until Harry sipped his tea before asking her next question.

“How are you doing?”

The small smile Harry had been nursing fell away and he sighed. “I’m fine, Hermione. I was just…. I was just being stupid. I’m fine now. It won’t happen again.”

She noted the stiffness in his frame, the way he refused to meet her eyes, the way his shoulders were rising to his ears. 

“Then why did you agree to come?”

“What, I can’t come visit you?”

“You know things need to change, Harry. I know you know. That’s why you came.” 

“So?” He asked, sitting forward and glaring at her. Daring her to say it.

“You’re not fine, and you need to acknowledge it.”

He scoffed and turned away, mug still in hand. Hermione leaned back and the fern brushed across her nose. She batted it away again. Harry kicked the duffel bag under the seat.

“I’m not okay,” Hermione admitted softly, breathing in the calming smell of her tea. Harry looked at her in surprise. She smiled and went on. “I get nightmares almost every night. Sometimes I can’t focus at all, and that’s really bad when I’m trying to wire electronics. Sometimes I get flashes back to… things that happened. But… Being here, having something to work for, is really helping me.”

“I have something to work for,” Harry mumbled.

“What is it?”

He looked a little affronted. “I’m in the auror training program.”

“Do you really want to be an auror though? Isn’t it just the same things that you’ve been doing since seventh year?”

Harry frowned.

“Or are you just doing it because it’s something you know you can do?”

“I wanted to be an auror since fifth year,” he said, but he didn’t sound very sure.

“A lot’s happened since fifth year.” She said. Fifth year seemed so long ago, when she was still mostly concerned with passing marks and end of year exams. Even after Cedric Diggory’s death and Umbridge’s threat, the reality of a war didn’t really hit her until long after they were after the horcruxes. They had all changed do much since then. 

Hermione shook herself and gave him a small smile. “Just think about it while you’re here. Maybe you can find something you really want to do?”

Harry took a careful sip of tea and stared out the window. Hermione considered this progress and picked up her own cup.

“You know,” Harry said slowly, “it’d be awful if I didn’t want to be an auror. That’s the only reason I got my Potions NEWT.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really didn't mean to take so long with this.  
> Also, I promise we'll get to something interesting soon.


	4. Wage Your War

Well that meeting was utter _bullshit_.

He slammed the door to his lab, which didn’t work, because in his naive past he specifically designed them not to be able to slam. They were, however, soundproof, which was good for the rest of the Tower because he immediately started blasting the most aggressive rock playlist in his arsenal. 

He tried to drown himself in redesigning his suit for the hundredth time, but that only worked so well before his thoughts were running around in circles and he couldn’t quite get the stabilizers right. So he went from blueprints to tinkering with the delicate fingers of a smaller, lighter gauntlet.

How could Steve be so _stupid_? How could he be so arrogantly confidant? Did none of the deaths even matter to him? Was this just a job to him? Tony pushed too hard with his screwdriver and the delicate finger he was working on crumbled.

How in all hell could he think they could keep going the way they were, and not run the world into the ground?

Tony let the tool drop, and then let himself drop, head in his hands. It was a mess. The whole thing was a mess. No, the Accords weren’t ideal, but it was the safest route. They had to be held accountable. Had to. They couldn’t afford another Sokovia. 

Tony couldn’t take another Sokovia.

Why did Cap think he could?

The music dimmed enough for Friday to speak. “Boss, Granger is back with her guest. She told me to invite you up for pizza.”

Oh, right. Harry Potter. How did he get here so quickly? Tony was still waiting for that email from Donna Noble. He wondered when ‘tomorrow morning’ meant in England.

“She said to tell you it’s Maroni’s pizza with red cream soda.” That got Tony’s stomach to grumble. Maybe he should have been a bit more concerned that Granger already knew his favorites and was using them to bribe him? But he should go meet the new guest and show him around. That was definitely the responsible thing to do.

Besides, hanging with the interns was always an interesting time. They’d be a good distraction until he could get his head on straight and make a plan to convince Cap he was being an _insufferable, arrogant dumbass._

He could hear the interns from a floor down, which was impressive, because there were only five of them. Well, five plus the new Potter kid. But how could six nerdy kids make that much noise? 

Right before the elevator doors opened, Tony heard the distinct sound of heavy metal and running feet, and he couldn’t help grinning.

The elevators opened right up to the living room and full kitchen, and the interns made full use of it. Pizza boxes were spread out on the rather sizable counter. More than twenty kinds of soda with corresponding red solo cups (yes, even Tony’s coveted Red Cream Soda). Sanji had set up his game station on the big screen and he and Annabeth were playing one of the Mario Parties (it involved a lot of shouting and hand movements). Monica was holding something small high out of Alexej’s reach, and the two were dancing around the kitchen. Granger was sitting calmly on the sofa, as she was prone to do, which left the figure sitting next to her as the new kid. 

“You started the party without me?” Tony complained loud enough to be heard over the cacophony. “And here I thought I was your boss!”

“Mr. Stark!” Alexej immediately turned on him. “Monica is hogging the remote!”

“You have awful taste in music!” laughed Monica.

“Country music is not awful.”

“I like jazz,” Sanji added from across the room.

Annabeth glared at him as she sent his racer over the cliff with a well-timed turtle shell. “You do not.”

“You know,” Tony said, slowly processing the fast paced conversation, “You could just ask Friday to change it?”

“No thanks, boss,” chimed the AI. “I am not getting in the middle of that.”

Tony glared up at the ceiling. What use was a fully-integrated AI home stereo system if it refused to respond to voice commands?

“At least you guys have good taste in food.” Tony finally turned to the bounty and poured himself a cup of fizzy red soda. Pappy’s. The good stuff. “Why’d you order so much, anyway? Thor’s gone for the foreseeable future.” And Tony was not about to invite the rest of the Avengers, thank you very much. He was trying to get away from them. (Except maybe Bruce, but Bruce was off somewhere hiding from the Hulk and he didn’t like these sorts of parties anyway. Tony ignored any sort of loneliness and abandonment issues that caused.)

“An average brain requires 20 percent of a body’s metabolic calories to operate.” Annabeth said. She paused the game just long enough to pin him in place with her sharp, gray eyes. “And we think a lot.”

Tony made a conscious effort not to comment on how creepy she was. 

Monica laughed and Alex took the opportunity to jump up and grab the remote. She pursued him before he could even change the music.

Granger approached the counter slowly, looking anywhere but his face and saying something so low it was swallowed by the music.

“Friday, turn it down some.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

The sudden drop in volume left Tony’s ears popping.

“Oh, um, Mr. Stark,” Granger came around the counter looking positively meek. That was not a look he ever expected Granger to wear. “I hope it’s okay, but Harry came early. And you said you’d have a room and everything sorted by morning, so I thought it would be fine, and he can stay in my room if not, but he’s here and - oh, Harry!”

The black haired kid looked away from the TV screen and blinked behind a pair of large, circular glasses. “Oh,” he said, and followed Granger’s path to Tony. “Sorry. For the, uh, inconvenience. Thank you for letting me stay here, Mr. Stark.” 

“What is it with all you kids and formalities?” They shook hands. The kid was skinny, short, and had permanent-looking bags under his eyes. Tony felt like he knew him. The faint traces of scars on his face and hands, the wan way he smiled, his tight grip on the red and gold duffel bag over his shoulder - Oh, Tony knew the type. Intimately. He saw the same type of person every time he looked in the mirror. 

“Call me Tony. I hope you’re ready to learn about the exciting world of alphabetizing paperwork.”

The kid looked unsure, but nodded. “Sure, anything I can do.”

“You’re going to regret that in a week.” Sanji laughed.

Because he had no filter and hated small talk, Tony got right to the interesting part. “So what’d the terrorists do to you?” 

The effect was immediate. Monica skidded to a stop, Alex fell over himself, and Sanji, once again, lost a life. Even the music seemed to get quieter, which Tony hoped didn’t really happen. That meant Friday was getting a little too good at reading the room.

“Because they made me build weapons in the middle of the desert with a car battery hooked up to my chest.” Tony knocked on his chest for emphasis, where the arc reactor used to be. “Not fun. But, you know, I got out.”

The room was quiet for a few tense moments.

“It wasn’t terrorists,” Monica said softly. “But I lost most of my family in the Battle of New York. We were visiting colleges for my brother.”

“I was in that Battle too.” Annabeth said as she once again pushed Sanji’s cart off the rainbow bridge. “I stole a dagger and fought.” 

“Sokovia,” Alex said, very, very softly. Monica handed him the remote.

Harry watched them all with wide eyes, hands clutched tight around his duffle bag. He finally met Tony’s eye again. Tony gave him a weak sort of smile, trying to convey that, yes, it was hard, but he could understand. Tony was never sure how much he could get across like that, but it was a hard thing to put into words.

“It’s not what they did to me,” the new kid said slowly, and rubbed at his forehead. Granger grabbed her own arm, and wasn’t that alarming? “I just, uh, keep expecting them to. Show up, that is. Out of the woodwork or something.”

Tony smiled something wider. “Well, the Tower’s got state of the art security, so if they do come out of the woodwork, Friday’ll let us know. And hey, the Avengers live upstairs, so there’s that, too. Sort of a crime-deterrent. Come on, let me show you your room.”

Harry and Granger followed him into the elevator. Friday oh-so-helpfully played a slow, acoustic version of Wonderwall on the way up. 

“There’s no space left on this floor so you’re up one, right above Granger, next to the elevator for easy access to the kitchen and common room.”

The doors dinged open and they walked out into an almost identical replica of the common space a floor below, minus the pizza and interns and all general indication of life. Instead of the yellow cabinets and tiles of the floor below, this one was green.

“There’s a kitchen here too?” Harry asked, inspecting the room like it held more secrets.

Tony winced. “Yeah, it’s not stocked, though. You can se the main one downstairs. I was hoping to expand the internship project, get a lot more kids to work on big projects together and stuff, but it’s not really working out. Insurance.”

Hermione nodded like she, too, had battled a multi-million dollar corporation about the logistics of housing teenagers he wasn’t the guardian of with super-powered crime-fighters. 

Tony stopped at the first door, which the cleaning crew had kindly left open. “Well, this is it, room 1501.” He ushered the two kid in.

Harry stopped right in the middle of the room, jaw open as he stared. The room wasn’t too shabby, if Tony said so himself. A little on the industrial side. Or maybe that was hotel-chic? He was sure they hired an interior decorator.

Harry, though, seemed to think it was amazing, and he slowly spun around to take in everything.

“Walk in closet to the right,” Tony said helpfully, and smirked when Harry’s head whipped around. “Master bathroom to the left. Friday is hooked up to the whole system here, so you can ask her just about anything without getting out of bed.”

Hermione opened the curtain on the large window and the setting sun streamed in so bright and red Tony winced.

Harry stared some more.

“Yeah, the view’s not as good as the top of the tower. Maybe I’ll bring you up there sometime.”

“And is there,” Harry started, then halted and wet his lips. “I. Um. Who…?”

“The whole room’s yours, Harry,” Hermione tugged the duffel off his shoulder and threw it onto the bed. “My room’s just like it.”

“I do have to lay down the law, though,” Tony said with a feinted wince. “You have to be back in the tower by midnight. If you are going to be later than that, let me or Friday know. No committing felonies unless you get my express written permission. Misdemeanors are on a case-by case basis. If you need any sort of food or medicine, just let Friday know and we’ll add it to the list. If anything breaks, tell Friday, and she’ll get a repairman up here within the hour. There’s a weekly stipend for takeout in the Internship account. If you want to access that, just ask Friday.”

Harry smirked. “So if anything goes wrong, just tell Friday?” 

“Pretty much. There’s just a few more.” Tony brought up a hand and mimed checking off fingers. “Oh, right. No hanky-panky in the showers. If you are going to dance the horizontal tango, gear is in the common area under the TV. If you need more, just tell Friday.”

Harry balked and sputtered, and Tony laughed at how red he got so quickly. 

“That was the same, too.” Hermione was frowning.

Tony wiped at his eyes. “I’m your temporary guardian, I have to look after you guys, right?”

“I’m not going to—” Harry said quickly, faltering, “to do that! Who would I even—?”

“You never know.” He beamed and Hermione settled on an exasperated smile. The tension in her shoulders had finally melted off, and Tony mentally congratulated himself on finally doing something right.

“Sorry to interrupt, boss, but Vision is in the kitchen scaring the interns.” Was that humor or discomfort he was detecting in her computer-generated voice? Either way, it was not a good sign. 

Tony sighed. “Right, well, I’m going to go put out that fire. And…”

Hermione pursed her lips like she had just eaten a lemon. “Oh, right. Harry, You should come meet Vision, too. He’s, um, a little unusual.”

Tony snorted. “That’s an understatement. You ever wanted to know what you would get when you cross the entirety of wikipedia, a 40 year old butler, and a microwave oven?”

“No…?”

“Well, you will now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's kudos! There's comments! There's bookmarks! I'm so freaking happy I could cry.  
> Thanks for all the positive feedback. It really does make it easier to write. :)


	5. Choosing My Confessions

A few hours earlier, Hermione led Harry to the Tower.

Avengers Tower was large. It was bright and shiny with enough red and gold details to make any Gryffindor proud. And it was _crowded_. He and Hermione dodged a fleet of slow moving cars just to make it to the lobby, and even then they had to shove their way through the lobby to a door marked “STAFF.” 

Harry followed Hermione down a tiny hallway to a tiny elevator. She had to swipe a key card just to get it to open, then again to get the elevator moving to floor 14.

“Friday, who’s on the floor?” Hermione asked suddenly.

“What?”

He probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was by the disembodied voice that carried them up through the elevator. After all, he’d seen far stranger things on his trips to the Ministry.

“Currently Sanji, Monica, and Mr. Svoboda. Ms. Chase is waiting for some results in the lab, but should be done soon.”

Harry most certainly did not jump. Hermione had absolutely no reason to snicker.

“Sorry, Harry, I should have introduced you first.” Hermione wiped at her eyes and swallowed the last of her giggles. “Friday, this is Harry Potter, my best friend. Harry, this is Friday.”

“Hello, Mr. Potter.”

“She’s the AI and interface for the entire Tower’s computer system. And the computer system’s everywhere, so be polite.” She glared, and Harry put up his hands.

“Uh.” Harry said, looking around the tiny elevator for an eye or camera or something to look at. “Hullo?”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Potter.” Was she laughing, too? “Hermione’s talked a lot about you.”

“Just Harry’s fine,” he said, in lieu of a real answer. 

“Sure thing, Harry.”

“We’ll order some pizza,” Hermione said firmly. “And that soda Mr. Stark likes.” Harry let her, and she had the entire evening planned by the time they reached the floor.

It was a whirlwind of new names and faces that Harry could barely keep track of. They swarmed when he and Hermione walked into the common area, and kept up rapid-fire questions and answers until Sanji pulled out a game system and Monica and Alex retrieved the pizza from the lobby.

They didn’t give him time to think about the whole thing before Tony Stark himself had shown up. Awkward small talk and far too intimate conversations later, and Harry and Hermione were in a room that was supposed to be his.

“You’ll probably want to set up wards.” Hermione said in that voice she used when she thought he was planning something. Harry winced. (He didn’t want to make it obvious that he didn’t trust Stark or anything, but he also _didn’t trust Stark or anything_. He’d never been particularly good at lying.)

“It’s okay, I’ve got some on my room too. Just be careful. If you add too many, Friday won’t be able to function in your room. I don’t quite know the effects it could have on the rest of the tower, either.”

“And Friday is…” Harry tried to think of the word Hermione had used. 

“Artificial Intelligence,” Friday said with definite smirk in her voice. “I’ve been instructed to keep an eye on you, but reporting something you don’t want reported would be illegal.”

“What she means is she’s trustworthy.” Hermione motioned to a small panel by the door. “Temperature controls and things even when you don’t want to talk to her. 

Harry nodded and stared around the room some more. 

“Go on,” Harry said when Hermione stopped at the door. “I’ll catch up in a bit.” 

She hesitated long enough for Harry to wince. Ron had been doing the same sort of things before he proposed this trip. Maybe he was she was supposed to babysit him? But she nodded and left and Harry was finally alone long enough to collect his thoughts.

Harry wasn’t really sure what to expect when he agreed to the vacation. Maybe a hostel or crowded dorm? Harry’s closest experiences were either Hogwarts or camping on the run, and he really wasn’t sure which it would be like. Turns out it was like none of those, and Harry didn’t know how relieved he was to be on a separate floor in a separate room until he was alone there.

So he spent a good ten minutes just standing in the bedroom, breathing. 

_His_ room, too. His large, very expensive looking room with a view of New York that apparently wasn’t even the best in the building, but it was on it’s own separate, empty floor.

He spent the next ten minutes after that setting up simple wards. Most of them were taught by the Auror program, so maybe there was a bias, but he found himself drawn to their sheer usefulness: one to alert him if anyone goes near, one to distract muggles from getting too close, one to block most minor scrying spells—They had so many uses.

Too many wards and Friday wouldn’t be able to function in his room, Hermione had warned. Harry didn’t think that was a bad thing. He added a ward against spiders for good measure. 

When he was done, he flopped onto the bed. It was huge, bigger than even the beds in Gryffindor tower. He stretched his arms wide, and still couldn’t touch both ends at once. Four people could sleep on this bed, and there would still be room to squeeze more people onto it. Harry wondered if he’d ever have a use for so much space.

He contemplated his duffle bag. Bigger on the inside, of course, but still just filled with his reference books and clothes. His broom was stuck in customs. Instead of unpacking, he swung the bag onto the floor and resolved to live out of it that way. It was only for a few weeks, anyway. Less work. (Easier to escape with.)

The space was really too big for him. He shuffled around the bed, feeling the soft sheets, then rolled over and tested the excessive number of pillows. The silence buzzed in the room and filled his ears. Even the crinkling of the sheets as he moved, one side to the other, never comfortable, couldn’t quite drown out the deafening silence.

Harry shot up.

“Friday?” Harry called tentatively into the empty space. He suddenly had the feeling that he had gone too far, and all the wards would affect the AI more than even Hermione expected. That’s what she was studying, right? What if all his wards disturbed her work and got her kicked out of the program?

“Yes, Harry?” Her voice was robotic and staticky, but still _there_.

He let out a breath. “You don’t think I could just stay up here, do you?”

“You could certainly try. But Hermione seemed very adamant about you going down for the rest of the party.”

“Right.” When had it turned into a party?

Harry hesitated for a moment. Stay in this bed that definitely wasn’t his, and listen to his own heartbeat get faster and faster, or go with Hermione?  
Harry stashed his wand in the holster under his sleeve and pushed himself to his feet. He could deal with a party. Besides, Hermione would be happy. And he wouldn’t be alone with awful, deafening _silence_.

The kitchen area was empty and quiet. It had exactly the same layout as the room below, minus anything that looked like anyone lived there. Lights flickered on as he passed to the elevator, illuminating the small adjoining living room with its own large TV. 

It looked strange with no one in it. He wondered if anyone had touched the room since it was put in. Harry didn’t spare it another glance.

The elevator door opened, and Harry froze.

There was a red-headed woman there already. They stood blinking at each other so long, she had to reach out to stop the doors from closing.

“Are you going down?” She asked with a sly smile, and Harry blushed.

“Yeah, sorry.” He shuffled into the elevator and she pressed the key to close the doors. “14th floor,” he said, and then felt foolish when he saw it was already lit up.

“Are you a new intern?” the woman asked. 

“Oh, uh… Yeah, I guess.”

The woman pulled the emergency stop and fixed Harry with an emotionless stare. Tension zipped up Harry’s back like electricity and he only barely stopped himself from pulling out his wand. Her eyes flicked to his hand and back.

“Is everything okay, Ms. Romanov?” Friday asked. 

The woman tilted her head, but didn’t look away from Harry. “I’ll let you know, Friday.”

Harry stepped back and hit the elevator wall. When did she get so close? She stared at him like she could pick him apart with her gaze alone, and kill him with a flick of her wrist.

“I just want to ask our new intern a few questions.” She smiled, and Harry shivered. 

He wished he had wards, or his broom, or just a little more space to fling a spell in the elevator. “What, uh, what do you want to know?” 

She rolled her eyes and leaned against her own wall, and Harry could breathe again. “Relax, I’m just going to ask you a few questions. What’s your name?”

“Harry Potter.”

“Hm. British?” That wasn’t really a question because she plowed right on. “When did you get here?”

“Uh, just today.”

“And what are you studying?”

“Erm, well…” Harry’s mind drew a blank. He didn’t think ‘the alphabet’ was a good answer. What was Hermione studying again? Something with computers?”

“Huh,” the woman said, tipping her head the other way. “Usually interns can’t wait to talk about their projects. So, what, you don’t have one? Got all the way into the Tower with no plan in mind?”

“No, um, Mr. Stark, he, uh, he offered me an internship? But it’s mostly for… paperwork.” Out loud, that sounded even lamer than he thought it would.

“Paperwork.”

“Yeah, it was… sort of last minute.” Harry wasn’t even sure why he went along with Ron’s hair-brained idea. Maybe he really did need a vacation like everyone kept telling him. 

“Sure.” The woman nodded like she finally got what she was looking for and pushed the emergency stop off. The elevator shuddered to life. Harry felt he could breath again without her full attention on him.

“Would you like me to keep that conversation private, Ms. Romanov?” Friday asked.

“Oh, no,” the woman said carelessly. She pinned Harry with another look. “Tony should know exactly what’s going on in his Tower, don’t you think?” The elevator doors opened with a ding and Ms. Romanov left with a wave over her shoulder. “See you around, Harry Potter.”

Harry was frozen to the spot until the doors closed again.

“Are you okay, Mr. Potter?”

“Harry,” he corrected automatically, and shivered. That woman was terrifying, and he didn’t even know why. She hadn’t even threatened him. “And yeah, I’m fine. I’m good. Just, uh, can you just keep us here for a minute?” Just while he caught his breath and stopped his hands from shaking.

The doors stayed shut. “Of course, Harry.” 

Harry nodded, and wondered if the AI could see it. No, of course she could, and she could hear the entire conversation. And if she saw that, she could see him now, crumpled against the elevator wall- Could she see him in his room? Did she watch as he put up wards? Did that count as breaking the Statute of Secrecy? 

“Are you good friends with Hermione?”

The words brought his mind to a halt. “Uh, what?”

“Your heart rate is elevated,” the AI said, like that was completely normal. “Are you good friends with Hermione?”

“I—yes. We’ve known each other since we were eleven.”

“She mentioned a Ron, too. Do you know him?”

“He’s my best mate. He and Hermione dated for a while.” Harry had no idea where Friday was going with this. 

“I have met Hermione and I have met you. What is Ron like?”

“Ron?” Harry blinked at the empty elevator. “Well, we met on the train to Hog— well, school. We just sort of hit it off. He’s really good at chess and a brilliant Keeper. He hates spiders.” Harry smiled. “He’s the first friend I ever made.”

“I’d like to meet him someday. Hermione told me a few stories, like how you once snuck into the library and Ron had to distract the librarian outside.” Friday said, and Harry breathed in the silence after her words. He really was lucky to have friends like Ron and Hermione. 

“Your heart rate has returned to normal. Would you like to return to the party now?”

Harry ran a hand through his hair and laughed weakly. For a second, he considered just staying in the elevator for the rest of the night. But Hermione was expecting him, wasn’t she?

“Yeah, I guess I should. And… thanks, Friday.”

With one last deep breath, he left the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, this is Conversations: The Fanfiction.


	6. Got a Head Full of Spiders

Vision was in the middle of the kitchen, alone, in a sweater and jeans, staring at the assembled pizza and soda like it would give him the answers to life, the universe, and everything. All of the interns (minus Alex) had migrated over to the TV, piled themselves onto one of the three available couches, and were watching the new match between Annabeth and Monica with rapt attention. Definitely not avoiding the psychic robot who could phase through walls. Definitely not.

Tony resigned himself to his fate and went over to entertain Vision. Well, he said entertain, but he was really just acting as a buffer. Babysitting, if you will.

He put it off a bit by refilling his drink, and then throwing one of the empty pizza boxes on the growing recycling pile, and then dragging his feet over to the robot who somehow managed to make too much and too little sense.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Vis?”

“Hello, Tony,” he said. “I was wondering at the variety of pizza here. There are more kinds than there are people in the Tower presently.”

“Vis, it’s a party. There should be _at least_ this many kinds of pizza.”

“It seems excessive,” Vision responded thoughtfully. “Perhaps it is part of the human experience?”

Tony watched as Hermione walked out of the elevator and over to the interns. Harry must be unpacking. No, he was not watching the elevator to intercept the new kid. No, he was not looking forward to watching someone else’s mind break trying to understand Vision (he definitely was).

But no luck. Vision went on about a new study on the evolution of the human tongue that Tony was probably never going to read. He was pretty sure Vision knew this, but Tony hummed in the appropriate spots and the robot didn’t stop.

20 minutes later, Natasha walked out of the elevator and went directly to the half-empty bottle of Dr. Pepper and the untouched Hawaiian pizza.

5 minutes after that, Harry Potter walked out of the elevator, took one look at the back of Nat’s head, and walked to the far end of the room where he imitated a house plant. Tony sighed. He forgot to warn Nat. He should have seen it coming.

But because Tony was watching Harry, he saw the exact moment Harry saw Vision. His eyes widened, his jaw fell, and his glasses slid a bit down his nose. All at once, like a cartoon. Tony hid a laugh in his cup. Hermione was already on the way over to him, he’d be fine.

“Don’t you think, Tony?”

“I-what? What am I agreeing too?”

Vision sighed. “I was saying that there is far more pizza here than everyone can statistically eat, so I don’t think they’d mind if I took a slice up for Wanda.” Ohh, that’s what he wanted. He always had a strange, round about way of getting to the point. Tony wished he came with a fast-forward function.

“You know, I think they’d want you to take Wanda an entire tray of pizza.” Tony watched Granger shove Harry into the pile of interns. He blended in like he belonged there. “Why don’t you take it up to her now? Before it gets cold.”

Vision nodded, like it wasn’t complete BS, and contemplated the large selection of unopened pies.

“Is pineapple pizza truly as horrendous as the internet makes it sound?”

Tony made sure Natasha was still on the far side of the room idly watching the game before responding. “That it is. Maybe try a pepperoni one? Pepperoni is the one true topping.”

“Wanda has expressed a distaste for pepperoni. Too greasy, she said.”

“Wha— too greasy? Isn’t that the point of pizza?” Vision opened his mouth, but Tony stopped him with a hand. “No, don’t. Don’t ruin pizza for me.”

“I think I will take her a cheese pizza.” Vision announced with the surety of a man who was discovering that microorganisms danced to polka.

Tony snorted. “Yeah, there you go. Slide into those DMs and all.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Tony.”

“Sure, sure.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder, once. He forgot how not-fleshy the robot guy’s shoulders were. “Stay safe, big guy.”

Vision blinked his inhuman eyes. Did he even need to do that, or was it strictly for show? “I assure you, the Tower is quite safe,” he said, then drifted up and fazed through the ceiling, J.Crew sweater and all.

Huh. He hadn’t met Harry yet. Oh well.

“So.” Natasha said right over Tony’s shoulder, and he flinched so hard he spilled soda all over himself. He needed to put a bell on her or something. 

She continued on, completely unfazed, even as he scrambled for a towel to get the red soda off his shirt. “When were you going to tell us about the new intern?”

“I don’t need the Avengers’ approval to hire interns.” Tony dabbed at his shirt roughly. It was definitely going to stain, which really wouldn’t be a problem if it wasn’t such a stupid reason. Usually red stains were blood, not cream soda. “Last I checked, I’m the only one who actually works for Stark Industries.” He sent her a quick glare. “Did you have to terrorize him already? He just got here. Literally.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “I just asked him some questions. It was a very civil conversation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Ask Friday.” She shrugged, and swirled her cup in a very casual manner that was anything but casual to an ex-spy like Natasha. “He said it was a sudden transfer. How sudden was that?”

“Oh, yesterday, I think?” Tony gave up and threw the used paper towel onto the counter to clean up later. “I’ll have to check my records to be sure. Is this an official inquiry?”

“Yesterday?” Natasha put her cup down on the nearby counter.

“He got here today, if that makes you feel better. You didn’t miss a single teenager roaming the 59 floor Tower.”

She frowned. “I don’t like any unknowns roaming around the Tower.”

“Well, it’s my Tower, so you’ll have to get used to it.”

“The Avengers live on the top floors. Tony, you’re bringing in an unknown who can compromise the whole team. And I don’t think I need to remind you what happens when we’re compromised.”

That was a low blow. Tony scowled. 

“He’s not an unknown, he’s a kid who helped take down a terrorist organization and needed a place to stay.”

“Tony, what do you know about him?” Like she flipped a switch, her face went blank and all judgement was gone from her voice. Now she just sounded open and honest, which ground at Tony even more. He knew what she was doing.

“He’s 18, his parents were killed in a car crash when he was a year old, and, oh yeah, he was crucial in taking down a terrorist organization last year!”

“Did you read that on his resume?”

Tony sputtered, insulted, and also a little attacked because he had yet to see the kid’s actual resume. 

Natasha crossed her arms, and Tony was glad for his growing immunity to her serious face. “First of all, he either has a weapon on him right now, or he’s used to carrying one. He’s currently carrying a stick in his sleeve. I don’t know what it is or what it does, but in my experience, people don’t carry around sticks for fun. He’s not comfortable with other people, and he’s awfully nervous about questions.”

“Everyone’s nervous about questions when you ask them!”

Natasha smiled sweetly. “Only when I want them to be.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the new headache to just go away. 

“So, what, you’re going to go tell on me?”

Natasha sighed. “I’m not going to tell Steve. I should.” She glared. “ _You_ should. But everyone’s too stressed right now. It wouldn’t be good for the team if I did that.”

“Thanks, Nat.” There was a lot of sarcasm in that, and a lot of truth. Tony really didn’t want to argue with Steve for the rest of the day. Once was enough, thanks.

“Oh, don’t thank me. You’re not off the hook yet, and I’m going to keep an eye on the kid. But if you don’t tell the rest of the team soon, it will blow up in your face.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Once again, none of you actually work for Stark Industries.”

“It’ll just be one more thing, and I don’t know how much more the team can handle.”

Tony’s jaw snapped shut and he stared at her. She stared right back, hard, searching his face, and Tony looked away.

Alex was back, and the interns were all trying to teach Hermione how to race one of the virtual go-carts. Hermione was hesitant and unsure, and almost immediately sent her cart into a pond. They all laughed, and Tony was struck with how different they were from the avengers. How young.

Natasha leaned against the next to him, almost close enough to brush shoulders. Almost. 

“I don’t want to lose this team,” she said softly. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep us together. All of us. Even you, Tony. I just hope it will be enough.”

Tony didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t sure they could be kept together, even with Nat’s considerable skills. He wasn’t sure they could work through it. 

And the worst part was, he couldn’t even pretend for Natasha, because she’d just see right through it.

She smiled a little sadly. “I think I terrorized your interns enough for one night. I’ll keep Vision away, okay?” And with that, she turned, snagged the box of Hawaiian pizza, and walked back to the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who didn't look over this chapter? Guess who no longer has a buffer? Guess who is ruining pacing? This guy *finger guns off stage*
> 
> But seriously, I didn't mention this last chapter because I don't want to sound like a broken record, but like... over 160 kudos?? 40 Bookmarks?? Actual comments??? I'm so freaking happy, you have no idea!!!  
> And especially thank you StephanieStephanie for commenting on EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER?? Like, that's so nice, thank you so much.


	7. Invested Enough in it Anyhow

Hermione waited all of two minutes before she asked Friday to keep an eye on Harry. She tried, she really, really tried not to worry, but it kept niggling at the back of her head and wouldn’t shut up until she did something about it. 

Even if that was just sicking an AI on him.

Tony was with Vision, hovering around the pizza counter, so all the interns were huddled around the TV feinting too much interest in Sanji and Annabeth’s loop around rainbow bridge. All except one.

“I have it next,” Monica announced as she approached. “If Chase would just _die already_.” She playfully nudged her with her socked foot.

Annabeth rounded the corner expertly. “I lived, bitch.”

“Why did we let her start this?” Monica sighed. “She’s too good.”

Sanji laughed. 

“Is Alex in his room again?” Hermione asked. She made a place for herself by squishing in between Monica and the arm of the couch. It wasn’t particularly comfortable, but she liked the spot and Monica made some space for her.

Sanji snorted a laugh. “Organizing his DVDs this time.” 

Hermione sighed. It was common, now, that Alex would disappear whenever Vision appeared. It was unfortunate that they both lived in the same Tower. 59 floors didn’t seem to be big enough.

“He’s really not that bad,” Hermione tried. “Just a little… disconcerting. He’s perfectly polite to talk to.”

“Yeah, if you ignore that he has all of your internet search history in his head,” Annabeth scoffed.

“I for one have a VPN for all of my privacy needs,” Sanji said with a sly smile.

Monica knocked her shoulder into Hermione’s, which didn’t take much work. “How’s Harry doing?”

Hermione smiled. “Good, I think. Maybe a little overwhelmed.”

“With us?” Sanji asked with a wince.

Hermione felt a surge of affection for these people she had only known for a year. Such a short time, and they already cared about her and her family.

“Maybe a little. He’s unpacking, but I think this is good for him. To get away and all.”

Monica rested her head on top of Hermione’s, and Hermione felt a little puff of pride that she could be a good headrest. “Sometimes it’s good to get away. Concentrate on something new and all that. But it can be hard to start.”

“Should we, like… Not do this?” Sanji asked. He leaned around Monica to look Hermione in the eye, completely ignoring how his avatar knocked into a barrier and started going the other way. “Maybe call it an early night?”

“I… I don’t know. I think he’s okay. He always sort of liked the parties at school. We used to have really big ones in the dorms after Quid - um, sports games. Harry was on the team.” Hermione smiled at the memories of the common room packed with stolen treats and laughter. “I think he liked the attention.”

“Oh, what’d he play?

“Uh… football?” Hermione hoped it wasn’t a completely obvious lie. 

“Oh, for real? What position? I played running back in elementary for, like, a year.”

“Uh-”

“She’s talking British football,” Annabeth said. “Like soccer.”

“Ohhh.”

“I - I never really paid attention to the positions,” Hermione added weakly.

“Here, someone else play.” Annabeth tossed the controller to Hermione and pushed her way through Monica and Sanji to sit on the back of the couch, her legs dangling between them.

Somehow, they convinced Hermione to try, and took turns yelling incredibly unhelpful advice to her as Sanji let his own cart idle. Yes, she could tell she was going the wrong way, but she couldn’t turn around without falling of the track entirely! Yes, it’s all well and good to want to hit one of those boxes, but she couldn’t very well go back and get one! A short cut would have been nice if she had been warned before she missed the turn!

Unsurprisingly, she ended up in last place long before she finished the court, with Monica wheezing into her hair. 

“Oh, wow, and Alex is still organizing his dvd collection,” Sanji said, ducking his head down. 

Hermione looked over to the kitchen, and, sure enough, Black Widow was walking out of the elevator and making a beeline to the pizza.

“Well, I need more pizza,” Sanji said, smacking his hands on his knees loudly and standing up. “Anyone else want some? Drinks maybe? I might need Natasha to help me carry it.”

“Oh, sit down,” Annabeth pulled him back onto the couch with a rough tug.

“How does she always know when we order out, anyway?” Monica asked curiously.

“She’s a _spy_ ,” Sanji said, like that actually answered anything.

“Friday,” Annabeth answered, like he was an idiot.

No one actually got up to retrieve Alex, and Hermione didn’t want to leave before Harry was back (even if it was just for a few moments), so she tucked her feet up under Monica’s legs. 

Harry was taking an awfully long time in his room. Was he okay?

They decided to change the game to something with cartoon characters fighting each other that Hermione vaguely remembered from her childhood.

Hermione kept casting fervent looks over her shoulder until _finally_ Harry stepped out. She immediately jumped up from the couch, pulled him away from the various adults in the kitchen, and set him down on the edge were the interns made room for them. His head followed Vision as they went.

Hermione sat in the middle, Monica took the other end and Sanji sat directly in front of Hermione, leaning against her legs.

“So when Stark said about him being a microwave…” Harry said in a faint voice. He looked frazzled. Hermione probably shouldn’t have left him alone for so long.

“He’s a robot,” Hermione explained, “But with a soul. So he’s a real person, just a little… different.”

“Try not to ask him questions,” Sanji threw in.

“Why not?”

“He’ll give you a lecture. One time I asked him if he could see ultraviolet, and, literally, he looked up a lecture, repeated it word for word, and then went on about the connection between delineation of the color spectrum and the structure of the mammalian eye.”

“I… er…” Harry looked lost, but Hermione didn’t have any answers for him. “That’s… terrible?”

Sanji snorted. “I still don’t know if he can see ultraviolet.”

“Maybe that means he can’t?”

His nose crinkled at the thought. “Why would you build a robot that can’t see infrared?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him blink.” Monica added thoughtfully.

Annabeth shrugged. “He could be worse. He could speak in internet slang or something.”

Sanji shuddered, and Monica snorted. 

Hermione glanced back just in time to see Vision float through the ceiling.

“He just… through the ceiling…” Harry trailed off, hand outstretched and completely lost for words.

“Phased through the ceiling, yes.” Hermione tried not to scrunch up her brow. “He explained that he can control the molecular density of his body? So he can move through solid objects. And liquids, I suppose, now that I think about it.” She hadn’t really considered it, but if he could change his molecular density, there’s no reason he couldn’t move through water as easily as air? Or move through air as if there was nothing there? Perhaps that was how he flew: lessen his molecular density to be lighter than air, and fluctuate 

“So he can just…” Harry motioned upwards, interrupting her thoughts, “Through my room? Anytime…?”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose.”

“He wouldn’t, though,” Monica said with a smile. 

“Not if he knows what’s good for him,” Annabeth grumbled. 

Harry stared at Hermione hard, lips pressed in a thin line, then looked toward her room and raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. But he rolled his eyes and let it go.

Tony joined them on the floor in front of the TV and nearly beat them all at Smash Brothers. Nearly. Sanji retrieved Alex. His hair was flat on the side of his head and there was a drool stain down his face, but he still managed to trounce the millionaire in a one-on-one fight. Until Annabeth beat him at that, too.

Monica and Alex pulled blankets and pillows and set them around the room like an giant nest or exploded pillow fort. Sanji insisted on bringing over boxes of pizza no one touched as they lounged around and told jokes. Somehow, they convinced Harry to play a game about a raccoon thief. He was awkward with the controls, more awkward than Hermione ever was, but was slowly getting the hang of not walking into walls.

“We’ve known each other for, what, a year?” Tony asked suddenly.

Hermione blinked at him. “About a year, yes.”

He nodded. “So you’d tell me if you were part of a secret organization set on world domination, right? Or something?”

Hermione blinked at him, again, at a loss. He continued fiddling with the controller, twisting wires this way and that, and she was beginning to think he was just making it worse.

“Mr. Stark,” She said slowly, smile creeping onto her face. “If I were to join a secret organization set on world domination, you’d be running it.”

“Thanks, kid.” Tony had a manic look in his eye, like when they found him some mornings still in his lab from the night before, but he cracked a crooked smile. He stood up and stretched and his back cracked. “Okay, wow. Guess I should start on our bylaws before old age catches up with me.”

“It is one in the morning,” Annabeth

“Make sure you kids get some sleep,” he called as he drifted toward the elevator. The interns yelled out various goodbyes.

By the time Alex put on a documentary about cuttlefish, Sanji was asleep on one end of the couch and Annabeth was making a cocoon of blankets against the wall. Harry made to leave, but Hermione took Harry’s hand and he squeezed it back. 

“You should stay down here tonight. Alex is making a fort or something. It’ll be like camping again.” 

Harry smiled. “Hopefully without a few things.”

They took up the rest of the couch, sharing a blanket and listening to the British narrator.

Hermione looked around at the dark room, noting the rise and fall of Sanji’s chest, the soft snoring from Monica, the occasional murmur from Annabeth on the other side of the room. Harry’s head was heavy on her shoulder and she thought that, yes, they’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. The worst chapter.   
> It's loose ends and needs to be done, but my god is it boring. I haven't reread it. I'll try to get the next one out sooner. :,D
> 
> Also, StephanieStephanie has been commenting on every single chapter? And Hetalover went back and commented on every chapter? Thank you so much??


	8. Imagine We Are Higher Than the Sparrows

Harry woke up a few hours later with Hermione’s hair draped over his face and a trail of drool running down his chin. 

He felt good, mostly. His neck hurt as he carefully extracted his arm and wiped his mouth without disturbing Hermione. It was the best sleep he had gotten in a while, even if it was only a few hours. 

Maybe if he rested his head on Hermione’s shoulder again, or flipped around to the other side of the couch he could fall back asleep. But as he stared into the room lit with pre-dawn light, he knew it wouldn’t happen. His heart was already thrumming in his chest. It would be one of those days, then, with nervous energy lying just below his skin.

So he pushed himself up from the couch and stumbled into the kitchen, one foot tingling with pins and needles.

Harry found basic black tea in one of the cupboards, and made a cup to sit and watch the room slowly grow lighter and lighter. It was quiet, which was nice, but it only lasted about ten minutes before he had to get up and do something. It was the common room, so he cleaned up the cups and plates from the night before, careful not to wake any of the others. And then there was nothing else to do, and Harry was waiting for time to pass. He didn't want be the only one awake in this space that he wasn’t part of in the first place.

He didn’t really want to go back to his room, either, and leave the calm atmosphere. Even though he felt more like a ghost at the moment, he didn’t really fancy being alone. Or let the buzzing silence back into his head. Here he could hear the soft snores and sleeping sounds of the other interns.

He found pancake mix in another cabinet, and put off making it until around 7:30, when he couldn’t stand sitting around anymore. (Or, rather, sitting on one chair, then going to another, then leaning on the counter, then deciding the edge was too sharp against his back and going to one of the chairs to start the whole process all over.)

Training to be an auror didn’t leave much room for cooking. Between the drills and studying the strange ambushes Mancy set up, they didn’t have time to cook when they could just get takeout and keep working instead. Harry thought it was better that way. But he couldn’t deny it was nice to focus on something easy, one step after another, actually _making something_. It made him feel like he was doing something good, something useful.

Especially when the interns started smelling the pancakes. They woke up slowly, but one by one, they gathered around the growing pile on the bar and dug in.

Sanji professed his love for him when he figured out the pancakes were for everyone and not just Harry showing off. Monica then said she’d fight Sanji for Harry’s love, and it devolved from there, but he couldn’t stop laughing at their antics. Alex took nearly half the stack while they were distracted. Even Annabeth seemed to enjoy them, and shared some homemade strawberry jam. 

If that was all it took to make friends, Harry would have become a chef years ago. He idly wondered what would have happened to Voldemort if he did that. Then he wondered what would have happened to the rest of Hogwarts, and then he purposefully made more batter and enough pancakes for the next three mornings.

Hermione watched him with narrow eyes until he set a cat-shaped pancake in front of her. It was just about as ugly as Crookshanks, but it made her smile. She ate breakfast without complaint.

The interns had access to a few different labs, Harry learned, all on higher floors, and mostly unsupervised. It was more unusual for Stark to be there than not, but they all had their own self-run projects, so Stark wasn’t usually needed for anything other than advice, distraction, and the occasional machine shop run.

Hermione had set up shop in an electronics lab on the 31st floor. Harry couldn’t begin to name all the contraptions and devices around the lab, but the place was packed. He spotted some labeled drawers and shelves, like there had once been a meticulous system of organization, but it had quickly been abandoned for an efficient sort of chaos.

Harry didn’t even know Hermione could be so chaotic.

Hermione beamed at him as he looked around, and seemed just about to give him a tour, when he suggested he go and see Stark for actual work first. She smiled because she knew exactly what he was doing, but let him go anyway.

Friday led him up to floor 40 and directed him down the hall to Stark’s personal lab. The place was as big as the entire intern floor, and had at least four tables piled high with electronics. Various pieces of robots and computers were pushed along the walls. A half-constructed hand of metal was propped up on one desk, a full-on breastplate sat on another, and a motorized arm was mopping something up in a corner. 

All-in-all, Harry was once again completely out of his element.

Stark was at one of the tables, flicking through holographic projections of documents at a ridiculous speed. Harry cleared his throat as he approached. 

“Oh, Harry, what can I do for you?” Stark banished the projections all with a twist of his hand, and leaned nonchalantly against the table.

“Uh, I’m here for an internship? Uh, alphabetizing, I guess?”

“Oh,” Stark said. “Right. We still have to find something for you to do.” For a moment, the man looked utterly lost. “Huh.”

Harry winced. He never meant to cause trouble. “Anything’s fine, really.”

“What are you interested in? Programming? No, wait, Granger said you blew up a calculator. Might not be the best idea. Physics? Astronomy? International Politics? Anthropology?”

“Uh,” Harry said intelligently.

“What was your favorite subject in school?”

“Defense—” Harry blanked for a moment. He couldn’t very well say Defense Against the Dark Arts, could he? He’d have to explain the Dark Arts and why they had to be defended against. “Erm, well, Care of… Creatures.”

“What in the world is that?”

“Care of Creatures,” Harry repeated, like that would clear it up. “Like… Animals. Animal handling. Cats and owls and… toads.”

Stark looked surprised. “Your school had animal handling classes?”

“It’s an odd school.” Harry winced at that, too, and hoped Stark wouldn’t be suspicious.

Instead, the man laughed. “Kid, I wish I went to your school. But there’s not much I can do about animal handling right now. Are you interested in, like, the anatomy of it? Biology and evolution? Internal systems?”

“I guess…?”

Stark frantically moved the papers around his desk until he found a thick stack of them. “Here, look through these and… organize them, I guess. Take a look. If you come across something interesting, let me know. I’ll see what I can do about the animals.”

Harry took the stack of papers. “Mr. Stark, it’s okay. Really. I’m only going to be here for a week or two anyway.”

“A week or two, huh?” Stark paused long enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “We’ll see. Now go on, shoo. Go explore and find something interesting.”

He waved Harry out of his lab, the door closing behind him just as the rock music started, leaving the hallway silent and empty.

Harry returned to Hermione’s lab. She was at one of the wide desks, hunched over some sort of computer monitor that was set into the table itself. She was talking softly to Friday, so Harry set himself up at one of the other desks, on top a stack of less-used reference books, and set to work.

He was about ten minutes in before he suspected Stark didn’t actually need the papers sorted. They were blueprints, mostly, with a few research papers sprinkled in. One of the blueprints looked to be for a prosthetic arm…? But Harry couldn’t really understand it. He couldn’t really understand any of the papers, and trying to was starting to give him a headache and put a desperate sort of beat to his heart.

So he settled on sorting the papers alphabetically by author then title, and the blueprints alphabetically by the first word he could make out of the chicken scratch handwriting. It was not a good system.

He put the papers down and rubbed at his eyes. Hermione was still bent over her computer-contraption, muttering softly like she used to over homework. Harry was hit with a pang of nostalgia. He could still smell the library, as strange as that sounded. Madame Pince kept the library spotless, but old paper and magic had a certain smell about it that effused through the space and clung to their clothes after long study sessions.

He wondered if the Hogwarts library still smelled the same.

“What are you doing?” Harry blurted out before he could dwell.

Hermione blinked owlishly up at him. “Oh. I’m trying to program a runic calculator. See, I tried to just write the runes on the calculator itself, but that caused everything to short out. I’ve planned them a bit better now, and I’m putting them on the circuit board. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have to translate the runes into a binary system which is… Well, challenging. Part of what gives runes power is the shape of the runes themselves, which is almost impossible to program into, so maybe if I develop a programming language that only uses runes… But I’m not sure how to do more than the very basics. Stark knows a lot, he wrote Friday’s programming after all, but it’ll still take me a while to figure it out, and… you don’t actually know what I’m talking about, do you?”

Harry blinked his glazed over eyes. “Um. You want to… make a magic calculator?”

Hermione sighed.

“Sorry. I know you wrote me about it, but I didn’t really understand it then, either.”

She smiled slightly. “To put it simply, I’m developing technomancy.”

“Technomancy?” Harry really hoped he hadn’t already learned about that.

“Yes. I’m developing a way to combine magic and muggle technology.” Her eyes gleamed in that way she got when her mind was moving too fast for anyone else to follow. “Stark was able to accomplish some amazing things, like Friday and his suit, things previously thought to be technologically impossible. Well, muggles have a saying: magic is just science that hasn’t been discovered yet. And when you think about it, a lot of it is true! Dowsing for water is like magic, but it’s really magnetic fields interacting with each other. Lightning was thought to be magic from the gods, but it’s a form of static electricity. But technology has been advancing by leaps and bounds in just the last few years, to places no one has expected, and magic has been mostly stagnant.

“So,” Hermione went on, and Harry nodded at the appropriate place, “I figured I could go one step further and combine what we know about magic and what Stark knows about technology. I tried altered wards at first, to keep magic from the technology, but even that interfered with Friday too much. 

“So now I’m working on just _detecting_ magic through muggle technology. I’ve mostly figured out a way to do it by taking basic energy readings and weeding everything else out, but it shorts out around too much magic and it doesn’t really tell us much about the kind of magic. Basic diagnostic spells tell us much more than that. So I thought, maybe, I should start just on integration.” She motioned to the oddly shaped pieces on her table. “I’m trying to get the runes to redirect the magical energy, mostly, so instead of shorting out, magical energy will flow around the calculator without interference. If I can get this to work, I can modify it to work with a more advanced computer, and that would be the first steps to integrating the two.”

“Of course.” Harry’s head was spinning. 

Hermione beamed, then very deliberately put down her tiny tools and folded her hands on her lap. She fixed Harry with a smile he didn’t quite understand. “What project are you working on?”

“Uh,” Harry said intelligently. “Alphabetizing.” He held up the stack of papers to demonstrate.

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “Are those Stark’s?”

“Yeah. I don’t think he needs them sorted, honestly. He just grabbed whatever and passed it off.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Whatever she had been getting at before was gone, and now she was looking at the stack like she used to look at a new textbook.

Harry chuckled and handed it over.

She flipped through them quickly, stopping at the blueprint of the hand that Harry had sorted somewhere around ‘J’.

“This is… This is fascinating! Is this how he signals dextrous movement?” 

She quickly started mumbling, and Harry decided he didn’t really want to stay around for another lecture. He feinted stretching and stood up.

“Well, I think I’m going to go explore a bit or something. Maybe ask Stark for another project.”

Hermione nodded absently. “He almost has it responding to his thoughts, not his movements. Maybe the suit is sensitive enough to detect minuscule movement? But would that be too sensitive to fight in? For even flight? Friday, do you have digital copies of these blueprints? The kind that show up in 3D?”

“Sure thing, Hermione.”

A holographic version of the blueprints sprang to life above her desk, and Harry had officially lost her. He sent her a lazy wave as he left.

Harry wandered to the elevator, once again. He would not be going to Stark for another project if he could help it. Tony was fine, but it was obvious the man didn’t have any plans for him, and Harry really didn’t want to bug him again so soon. 

Maybe he could take a day off? Just relax and laze around. He hadn’t taken a day off in well… Not since the end of the war, and that hadn’t been the best day. 

But he didn’t think he could relax here, either. He felt like he was on the wrong foot, that buzzing energy still somewhere in his chest. Like he was expecting the floor but there was another step down instead. It didn’t exactly make the best atmosphere.

“Where would you like to go, Harry?” Harry jumped.

“Friday! I thought you were with Hermione!”

She laughed. “I’m an AI, I’m everywhere in the Tower at once.”

“Really?” Harry supposed that made more sense if one was familiar with computers. “Are you with Stark too?”

“Yes, I am currently compiling record data for Mr. Stark.” Friday paused like she was thinking. “I’m also running a test on a DNA sample for Sanji, a simulation for Ms. Johnson, and interactive blueprints for Ms. Chase and Hermione.”

“That’s a lot.”

“Thanks,” she said proudly, and Harry laughed. “So where will it be, Harry? There’s a pool and fitness center on the 42nd floor, and a home theatre with a digital library on the 44th.”

Harry thought for a moment. “Stark said the view from the top was better than the 15th floor. Can I go there?”

“There’s a balcony on the 56th floor,” Friday said thoughtfully. “Mr. Stark didn’t say you weren’t allowed.” 

“I’ll go there, then.”

“Going up.” The elevator dinged in a way it had never done before, and quickly ascended.

“Thanks, Friday.”

“Sure thing.” 

The 56th floor was a lot more open than the labs or the interns’ floors. The elevator opened onto a lounge area, much larger than the 14th floor, set into the floor and lined in plush couches. There was a fully stocked bar to the left, a huge TV to the right, and hallways on either side of the lounge.

But most importantly was an entire wall covered in glass and dedicated to a spectacular view of the city.

Harry immediately went there. The doors pushed open with a bang, blasted apart by a cold breeze that nearly took his breath away. 

The 56th floor wasn’t the tallest in New York City, but it was high enough that the cars looked like tiny toys below. Opposing skyscraper cut through the horizon at jagged intervals, windows glinting in the sunlight. 

Someone had set up a few plastic lawn chairs, which looked incredibly out of place with the sleek architecture of the whole floor. After a moment’s thought, he pulled one over to the edge of the platform and sat down. The chair creaking unsteadily against the metal deck. There weren’t even guardrails, which Hermione would hate, but Harry could only appreciate. Guardrails would disrupt the view.

The little spark of freedom he hadn’t felt for far too long flickered in his chest.

It was cold, with the wind, and Harry idly thought that he should have brought a heavier jacket, but he was loathe to get up any time soon. He wrapped his arms around himself and leaned forward to watch the traffic winding below his feet instead.

Once his broom was out of customs, he would take a flight from this floor, statute of secrecy be damned. He had an invisibility cloak, anyway, no one would even seen him. He could spend hours, a whole day even, just weaving in between the skyscrapers of the city. He’d never flown around a place like New York before, the few flights around London just didn’t compare. The dive from the balcony alone would be fantastic.

( _That_ would be a day off, and no one would begrudge him that, right? Ron and Hermione were always telling him to take breaks.)

His pleasant thoughts were interrupted when the door banged open behind him. 

Harry flinched, flicking his wand out of his sleeve and swinging around to fling a spell. His feet tangled beneath him and the lawn chair gave way at just the wrong moment.

He was falling. The silver balcony pulled away, a flash of a surprised face, the wind wrapping around him in a familiar embrace and —

Oh, right. Harry couldn’t fly without a broom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 69 bookmarks  
> Nice

**Author's Note:**

> I did Zero Research for this, and it really shows.


End file.
